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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29989044">Kōgai Kara Kiku (Hear Me From the Suburbs)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/towncean/pseuds/towncean'>towncean</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Architect Sakusa Kiyoomi, Break Up/ Post Break Up, Finding home, Forgiving, Former Pro VB Players Miya and Sakusa, Leaving without explanations, Lost dreams, M/M, New Beginnings, New found passion, Reconciliation, angst with happy ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:20:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29989044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/towncean/pseuds/towncean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakusa Kiyoomi gave up his first ambition of being an Architect to pursue his much-anticipated dream of playing volleyball with his boyfriend, Miya Atsumu, in the professional league. One year after going pro, he woke up to the news of Atsumu’s sudden departure, not just from his life, but also from the volleyball world. Years later, Architect Sakusa found his old flame stumbling outside a suburban house as his former Inarizaki captain caught him in his arms.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SakuAtsuAngstWeek</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kōgai Kara Kiku (Hear Me From the Suburbs)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I initially dropped all my WIPs but for some reason I just couldn't leave things unfinished, so I picked up where I left off. I didn't proof read this as usual, lmao. So beware of some grammatical errors and typos. </p><p>Enjoy, angst eaters!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>KIYOOMI</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Two knocks on the door were followed by a placid voice. </p><p>“Kiyo.” </p><p>Kiyoomi turned over his shoulder. “Come in,” he permitted, tone all somber and dull. </p><p>Motoya came in with two mugs of coffee, vapour slowly dissipating from the hot liquid. Kiyoomi shut his eyes—tight and insistent, refusing the detailed picture of someone’s face flashing on his mind. He reached out for the cup and was immediately greeted by the warm bitterness of his drink as if Komori just grinded the beans and mixed it with hot water. No sugar, no cream. </p><p>This is how Sakusa Kiyoomi starts his day. A plain, pungent punch of spite wakes him up in daybreak. Nothing <em> new </em>. </p><p>“When was the last time you got out of your office?” Motoya persisted to chivvy him to get a breather. </p><p>“I need to finish the floor plan by today, Motoya.” </p><p>“Good grief, Kiyo! Do you still even know how it feels to be under the sun? Geez, you look so washed-out!”</p><p>“<em>No,</em>” he replied. Kiyoomi has long forgotten how the <em>sun’s</em> <em>warmth</em> feels like. He only remembered moving the yellow curtains aside, allowing the sun’s radiance shine upon him from the outside.</p><p>Oh how he<em> loved </em> its glow, its heat, its comfort—he loved the sun itself. </p><p>But now he’s confined in a room away from the sun’s path, small windows shielded with heavy drapes in brewed cacao’s shade. Kiyoomi won’t allow any ray to enter his room once again. </p><p>“This—this whole thing, do you...really want to do this?” his expression softened as he observed his cousin’s body stiffened from the question. Kiyoomi sighed, his shoulders fell akin to a tree’s single twig holding the crows’ weight until it snapped. </p><p>“I <em> like </em> what I’m doing, Motoya. This was my <em> dream </em>. This is what I originally wanted. I...I chose this so don’t question it.” He responded, perverse yet reluctant. </p><p>“But you <em> loved </em> volleyba-”</p><p>A squeak cut him off when the chair’s legs scuffed against the marble floor. Kiyoomi stood his ground as he finished off his coffee before stepping away, the tip of his shoulder bumped into Motoya’s.</p><p>He paused, his hand gripped the doorknob. “I <em> said </em> I chose this. I’m not going back <em> there </em> . Not anymore. And even <em> you </em>can’t convince me otherwise.” </p><p>Kiyoomi opened the door. “As you can see, I’m busy. If you have no more business with me, then I suggest you leave now.” </p><p>Motoya exhaled, his eyes were bloodshot. “Kiyo, it’s been <em> two </em> years. Set yourself free. You deserve better.” He uttered before he left the room. </p><p>Kiyoomi felt his knees quake, his hands searched for support—yet he found nothing. He planted his hands on the cold floor, his limbs were the earth caving in as the faults ran bigger. Kiyoomi clenched his jaws, antipathy crawled into his veins, leaving his body immobile.  The reminder of what happened two years ago was cataclysmic enough to flatten his fortifications, rendering him helpless. </p><p>Seconds passed and feeble sobs filled the room. He clutched his chest as he desperately sought for air. Kiyoomi defenselessly plopped on the floor, his back leaned against the wall. He lifted his head and gazed at the ceiling, warm mists pooled in the corners of his eyes. It’s hazy. His vision, his decisions, his unanswered questions—everything were dim and vague as if he’s verging blindness. </p><p>The dawn’s light wasn’t enough to illuminate the dark within. He duped himself to think that darkness engulfed him after <em> he </em> left, when darkness has <em> always </em> been there even before <em> he </em>came. It lingered longer than anything and anyone else. </p><p>Kiyoomi stared at the work in progress on his table. A paper in exchange for a globe of synthetic leather. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>[6 YEARS AGO]</b>
</p><p>“Mm...huh?” Atsumu was rubbing his eyes when he opened the door. His lashes clamped as he blinked a few times. “Omi?!” </p><p>“Happy Birthday, my love.” he brushed the strands of hair away from his face before he pecked the tip of Atsumu’s nose. </p><p>“What are ya doing here?! It’s the dead of the night! Don’t ya have classes tomorrow?” He pouted. </p><p>“Uh, can I get in first before further interrogation? And I need a lil help here.” Kiyoomi pertained to the bags of take out food in his hands. Atsumu nuzzled his cheek before helping him take the food in. </p><p>“And to answer your question, I have no classes tomorrow. We have a one week break and it started yesterday.”</p><p>“But ya said ya were busy yesterday?”</p><p>“Yeah cause I’m polishing this-” Kiyoomi took the strapped drawing tube off. Atsumu noticed the ribbon around it. “Here’s my gift.” He winked. </p><p>“Omi!! Is this...is this really for me?” Atsumu gazed up at him, his eyes apparent with unmistakable tender affection. He clasped the tube on his chest. </p><p>Kiyoomi smiled, the one he only saves for Atsumu. “Of course, baby. All yours.” He kissed the top of his head. </p><p>He twisted the tube and his mouth gaped in awe after seeing what’s inside. Atsumu pulled the huge tracing papers out and studied the floor plan along the perspective drawing of a house. He carefully ran his fingers on the intricate details of Kiyoomi’s work. </p><p>He read the words on the title block. “For my one and only home...” </p><p>Atsumu turned to him with a wobbling chin and ruddy nose. “O-omi, home...for us?”</p><p>“Anywhere with you is home. But I still want to make an ideal place to live in with you once we...settle down.” His face flushed cherry. He gasped when Atsumu lunged to embrace him. Kiyoomi noticed how his body shook and felt his shirt getting damped. He wrapped his arms around his lover’s shoulders and buried his face on the crook of his neck.</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>Atsumu bobbed his head as he nestled in Kiyoomi’s hold. “I love ya so much, my Omi. So much...ya have no idea…”</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“I said I can’t see myself loving anyone like this but you.”</p><p>They gazed at each other’s eyes, diving past each other’s nebulas as celestial bodies merged, creating a whole new universe where only the two of them belonged.</p><p>Kiyoomi scanned his face. A tincture of melancholy surfaced from his mellow expression. His brows furrowed. Despite his apparent overflowing fondness, Kiyoomi noticed the subtle qualm on Atsumu’s mien.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p>**</p><p>3 years later, Kiyoomi passed MSBY Jackal’s tryouts without a hitch. The years he spent committing on his course taught him how to love the art of architecture and tolerance for its requisites. But nothing beats his dedication for volleyball and the passionate desire to pursue it with him and Atsumu standing side by side on the same court. To play with the love of his life to their hearts’ content--that is his <em> dream </em>. And he feels lucky to reach this far, lucky to live his dream, lucky to find his home.</p><p>“Omiii!” Atsumu giggled and engulfed Kiyoomi in his warmth as they welcomed him to the team. “I’m happy. I’m sooo happy.” His face glowed and eyes crinkled, sunshine in peak hours. </p><p> “Me too, Atsumu.” He nodded, receiving his beams wholeheartedly. </p><p>Kiyoomi thinks even when his career is done for, he’d still be satisfied because Atsumu will still be there. Atsumu will always be his <em> constant </em>. Volleyball may cease, contracts may terminate, brawns may decline, but Atsumu won’t.</p><p>His gaze followed the ball’s trajectory as Atsumu’s fingers tossed it up. His pupils dilated, orbs focused on another spherical mass afloat. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Beautiful. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Omi-kun!” Kiyoomi sprung upwards, reaching the heights of his setter’s trust. The ball perfectly fit his palm, his vision turned crystal clear as he thunderously slammed the ball on the other side of the court. The sound from the convergence of resilient faux fabric and shockproof hardwood flooring was a mellifluous melody to his ears.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Beautiful.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Ain’t my tosses the best?” Atsumu chortled. His wavy hair bounced, brunette lashes fluttered, and naturally coral tinted lips spread across his face. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Beautiful.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the best.” He whispered. <em> Yeah. </em> This is the <em> world </em> they’d dedicate their lives to. Kiyoomi wouldn’t trade it for another. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>[NOW]</b>
</p><p>“Ar. Sakusa! Glad to see you here today. I haven’t seen you for weeks? Still workin’ on your blueprints?” Senior Architect Himura approached him. </p><p>Kiyoomi nodded. “It’ll be done in a few days. I just have to meet my client tomorrow to confirm the revisions they wanted.” </p><p>“By the way, Principal Engineer Murata will choose some architect from our firm to work with him. I heard they’re handling a big time project this year!” Himura patted his shoulder. “I suggest you start showing up here more than working from home. It’s a good opportunity, Sakusa.”</p><p>The side of his lips curved. “Thank you, Himura-san. I’ll keep that in mind.”</p><p>He quietly sat at his desk. He clasped his hands, head drooped over the table. Kiyoomi sighed. </p><p><em> Big time </em> ? Kiyoomi couldn’t care less about coming out on top. Being able to use his knowledge from university and previous experience in this field was already enough for him <em> . </em>He loved his job. The way he’s fixated in every detail of his designs, the way he learned about how people perceive a house and a home. Kiyoomi appreciated the elaborate process of founding an ideal abode. A place to comfortably dwell. A place to settle down. </p><p>The more clients he met, the more he understood that the bond between people and places was the roots inching underneath the earth’s facets. </p><p>“Turn the tv on! I missed the live streaming this morning.” </p><p>“Yeah, me too. I heard they’ll play it again. I’m so excited!” the firm’s employees chattered near him. </p><p>“Oooh, what’s this talk about?” Himura chipped in. </p><p>“We’re watching the rebroadcast of our national <em> volleyball </em> team against Argentina!” </p><p>Kiyoomi flinched after hearing the commentators’ voices on the tv. He looked away. </p><p>A realization struck him upon hearing the rebroadcast. One thing he lost after leaving the professional league was his <em> hunger. </em>The drive that compels him to keep leaping, to keep giving his all until the very end. Kiyoomi can barely recall how his games went in the past. How the people cheered for him and his team. The solid stance for cheers over jeers which he held high along with regards to his fellow athletes. </p><p>“Architect Sakusa, weren’t you a former pro volleyball player?” Himura noticed his indifference to the rebroadcast while the others gathered to see a high-level sports match between two strong teams.</p><p>Kiyoomi tilted his head. “I was,” he uttered, deadpan.</p><p>“So you knew some of these players then? Bokuto? Ushijima?” the older man asked. </p><p>“Yes. I’ve played with and against most of them.” His gaze dropped on his feet. “Glad they made it to the national team.”</p><p>“I saw you on newspapers when you were still in MSBY! I heard you were a <em> hotshot </em> despite being the Jackal’s rookie that time, huh?” Himura laughed. “That’s amazing.”</p><p><em> Amazing? </em> Kiyoomi swallowed the threatening chunk of emotions rising in his throat. He was an <em> ace. </em>An impeccable, talented, top-tier player in the so-called “monster generation” of their domain. He was known as a remarkable figure in the world of sports. But names and titles held little significance to him. For Kiyoomi, it’s the feeling that mattered. It’s the relish of challenging himself to surpass his limits. It’s the gratification of seeing things through and having the planted seeds in the beginning flourish into a succulent denouement. </p><p>Playing on the court is a <em> truly </em> amazing experience beyond comparison. </p><p>“If you don’t mind me asking, what made you diverge paths? You should’ve been in your prime years now, aight?”</p><p>Kiyoomi halted from collecting his blueprints. 10 seconds flown and his tongue remained tied. The events of the past resurfaced and he’s once again brought back to the same question:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p>
  <b>[2 YEARS AGO]</b>
</p><p>It’s almost sundown when the Jackals wrapped up their training. </p><p>Kiyoomi came out of the shower room, cold droplets fell from his locks. </p><p>He heard a hum from the lockers area. Atsumu’s back was facing him, a portable radio as small as his palm was placed against his ear. </p><p>Kiyoomi watched him slowly rock his head while humming along with the music on his radio. He sneaked behind Atsumu and leaned closer to hear the song. </p><p>“Will you still love me when nobody wants me around…” Atsumu closed his eyes as he sang the lyrics of Happiness by Rex Orange County.</p><p>“Of course I will.” Kiyoomi mumbled under his breath. Atsumu’s jolted beside him, his hand flew on his chest.</p><p>“OMI! Ya scared me!” </p><p>He chuckled as he sealed Atsumu’s lips with his. “You’re cute.” </p><p>“And yer not funny.” Atsumu scowled.</p><p>“Why are you still using a radio? What are you? Sixty?” Kiyoomi teased, pinching his boyfriend’s cheek. </p><p>Atsumu fidgeted, his eyes blinked at a quick pace. “Uh...I like to keep my fingers nimble. Ya see, this tiny radio has lots of buttons. I like fiddling with them even without having to look. And besides, my phone hurts my eyes sometimes.” </p><p>Kiyoomi shrugged. “Okay.” </p><p>He waited until Atsumu got out of the shower room. Kiyoomi lent his hand. “Let’s go?”</p><p>Atsumu accepted it without hesitation and smiled. </p><p>They walked to the shinkansen, hand in hand under the street’s lamp posts. Kiyoomi was peaceful to be held tight by his home and his light. </p><p>“Are you hungry? Do you wanna grab a bite before—”</p><p>Kiyoomi was deft to catch Atsumu before he fell when he tripped on a rock. He fumbled around until his hand landed on Kiyoomi’s jacket and tugged him close. </p><p>“O-omi...omi…” his body tensed, dewy-eyed as he  searched for Kiyoomi’s face. </p><p>“Shh… I’m here. I’m here.” Kiyoomi rubbed the small of his back. “What’s wrong, Atsumu?” </p><p>“Nothing, I…I’m just scared of the dark.” He pressed his lips while his arms secured around Kiyoomi’s neck.</p><p>The latter took his phone out and turned its flashlight on. He offered his hand again. “I’m here. Hold my hand and don't let go.” </p><p>**</p><p>“Coach! Please, what’s going on? Coach!” Kiyoomi scurried on his Coach’s retreating back after his staggering news. </p><p>He’s starting to lose his cool when Atsumu won’t still pick up his call. “C’mon, Atsumu. Please answer.” </p><p>Kiyoomi was pacing back and forth, his teammates failed their attempts to calm him down. He bit his lip as his anxiety was the layers of scarves swathed around his neck and he couldn't breathe. </p><p>He cursed when his phone died. Kiyoomi instantaneously hurled it on the thick walls of the gym. The phone’s pieces scattered on the floor. The Jackals went silent. </p><p>It was the first time they witnessed Kiyoomi’s intemperate outburst. </p><p>“Sakusa...” Meian, being the captain of the team, carried his responsibility of looking after his members.</p><p>Even Bokuto and Hinata’s mouths pursed while having the situation unfold before them. </p><p>Miya Atsumu, one of the rising stars of the pro volleyball league in division one has permanently quitted the volleyball organization after his contract with MSBY Black Jackals ended.</p><p>And it wasn't just that. </p><p>Kiyoomi was greeted with a letter and a compass locket in his locker when the news broke out. </p><p>“What is this bullshit? He’s pranking me. If any of you know where Atsumu is, tell him I’m not gonna play this fucking game of his.” Kiyoomi stormed out of the gym. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>[NOW]</b>
</p><p>“Fuck.” He rubbed his face as if it’ll wipe off all fragments that have been haunting him since Atsumu left him just like that. </p><p>Kiyoomi ransacked his drawer until he found the brass compass locket he left untouched after the day he knelt outside the Miya’s household, <em> begging </em> them to tell him where Atsumu was. </p><p>Neither one of them knew where Atsumu went. Months before his departure, he mentioned to his family that he wanted to travel—to find himself if he ever quits volleyball.</p><p>Osamu was tight-lipped the whole time. Kiyoomi couldn't squeeze out an answer. Only a pair of woeful gray eyes directed to him. </p><p>It seemed almost everyone was informed of Atsumu’s actions ahead of time <em> except </em> for Kiyoomi.</p><p>He was <em> devastated. </em>It almost drove him insane as he asked himself every night what he did wrong to deserve all this. </p><p>And that even after two <em> damn </em> years, he’s still wondering where Atsumu had gone to.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi was left with lingering questions that are still rendered unanswered until now. He read Atsumu’s note but it was only repeated <em> I love you </em> , <em> I’m sorry, </em> and a single <em> goodbye.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He opened the locket and discovered the engraved coordinates on it. </p><p><b> <em>(</em> </b> <b> <em>37°07'27.3"N 138°31'45.0"E)</em> </b></p><p>Kiyoomi entered them on the search bar and a map appeared on his screen, pointing to a certain location:</p><p>
  <b> <em>Hoshitoge Rice Terraces</em> </b>
</p><p>He swilled away from his monitor. <em> What’s the point? </em></p><p>What’s with the location? Why would Atsumu give him something like this after he broke up with him? The moment he walked out of Kiyoomi’s life was the moment their connection had already been severed.</p><p>Even when he’s gone, Atsumu kept giving him endless questions he couldn't decipher. </p><p>No explanation is a clear indication.</p><p>People who can easily discard those who treasured them don’t deserve to be remembered at all. </p><p>That's <em> why </em> Kiyoomi left the volleyball world. The <em> world </em> where there was Atsumu. His home vanished and that meant he had no more place to dwell in, so he ceased. </p><p>He refused to become a lost vagrant in his bygone reverie—a realm that has grown bigger and colder, making him reach the lowest of the low. </p><p>Kiyoomi returned the locket in his drawer while he answered Himura’s call. </p><p>“Himura-san?”</p><p>“Sakusa! I just want to apologize for prying into your personal life. It wasn't my intention to make you feel uncomfortable,” He sincerely said.</p><p>Kiyoomi massaged the bridge of his nose. “It’s alright, Himura-san. Thank you for reaching out.”</p><p>“Just to give you a heads up, my team will go to Tokamachi two days from now. Do you know the <em> Hoshitoge Terraces </em>?” Kiyoomi’s posture straightened after hearing a familiar place. </p><p>“H-Hoshitoge?”</p><p>“That’s right. We’ll observe the suburbs of Tokamachi and study the landscape over there. Most of my previous clients are now living there. You’ll see a lot of country houses especially the ones near Hoshitoge.” </p><p>“I’ll join, then.” Himura approved in response. </p><p>**</p><p>
  <b> <em>ATSUMU</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Kita-san?” Atsumu called. </p><p>“Kita-san, breakfast is read—” He screeched when he slipped on a small puddle. </p><p>Atsumu closed his eyes, anticipating a few splash of water on his face. But it never came. </p><p>Kita immediately caught him before he flopped flat on the ground. </p><p>“Careful, Atsumu.” He picked up a white cane and guided Atsumu’s hand to hold it. “You’re still not used to walking without your cane, so try not to lose it.”</p><p>“Noted…and oh! I made some sandwich with the blueberry jam ya bought yesterday! Let’s eat.” He beamed as he groped on air, looking for Kita’s hand. </p><p>“Here.” Kita gave his hand which Atsumu immediately grabbed as they headed back to the <em> house </em>. </p><p>**</p><p>Everyday, Kita would bring Atsumu to the rice terraces and have him get used to the environment and adjust to it by relying on his other senses. Atsumu would wear his dark glasses so people won't easily perceive his condition. He’d pretend to look at their way based on where their voice is coming from and he’d sometimes take a stroll without his white cane to make it more believable. <em> . </em></p><p>Lies over lies until the great pretender forgets they were lies. </p><p>Because no one wants to receive any of those pitious looks. <em>No</em> <em>one</em></p><p>Atsumu groaned, his body slumped against his cushions placed behind a huge window. He settled his portable radio on his palm, fidgeting with its tiny buttons. He’s memorized what every button is for. He knew how to operate it by heart. Even <em> without </em> looking…</p><p>2 years have passed and Atsumu’s memory of this house and the view from the window is still the same. </p><p>It was like staring at the same painting from a gallery of a thousand canvases. The picture never changed. </p><p>The scent, the ambiance, the quiet—this is <em> why </em> Atsumu chose to reside in the suburbs of Tokamichi. It was an ideal place to... <em> settle </em> down. </p><p>He pressed on the radio’s switch and twisted the volume knob to turn it up. Chelsea Cutler’s <em> You Were Good To Me </em> played randomly. Atsumu set the radio on the windowsill and sat back, inhaling the fresh air of the outskirts.</p><p>Sometimes, Atsumu feels like he could still see some fragments. Those details he’s persisted to remember—to plant in his memories and water it daily to make sure they won’t wither. </p><p>But he knows the <em> truth </em>.</p><p>The reality he’s known has drastically changed since the moment he stepped out of his foregone world. </p><p>And everyday, he would ask the Kiyoomi in his mind, the man he left, the man he failed to fulfill his dreams with. </p><p>“Omi...do you hear me?” He uttered, chest pounding turbulently whenever he thinks about the only person he swore to ever love. </p><p>He wondered if their paths crossed once again, will Kiyoomi hear him out? Atsumu wanted to scream his agony, his apologies, and the explanation Kiyoomi deserved atop of his lungs and even beyond these suburban fields. </p><p>
  <em> Will my longing ever reach you again?  </em>
</p><p>“Omi will you listen to me?” </p><p>Atsumu could only stuff himself with endless questions. The questions that have never stopped plaguing him since the night his vision started to deteriorate as he approached the periphery of sightlessness. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu kept asking. Why does it have to be him? Retinitis Pigmentosa was a rare genetic disorder and he’s one of the few who’s vision declined at a rapid rate even at such a young age. No treatment, no certain cure as of now. Atsumu was vulnerable. The more he spent time playing with Kiyoomi on the same court, the more it pains him to know he won't be able to see all of them—how the ball gracefully propels from his beautiful sets, how his spikers never failed to accept his challenges, and the satiated looks on their faces after playing with resolute desire for the sport. </p><p>So he had to disengage his kaput self from the vigorous world he once belonged to, and that includes Kiyoomi.</p><p>“Atsumu.” Kita entered with noiseless steps.</p><p>“Yes, Kita-san?” he paused when another pair of feet arrived in the room.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>KIYOOMI</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi pressed his lips together until they blanched from the pressure he’s exerting. Kita sighed. </p><p>“I think it’s time you two should sort everything out. You don't want to drag this on for much longer, do you?” Kita eyed him intently. </p><p>Kiyoomi cupped his mouth as he recalled Atsumu’s voice calling for his name while he gazed outside his windows. </p><p>“Thank you, Kita-san. For being there...for him.” </p><p>Three days ago, he and some of his fellow architects went to Niigata to study the residences and countryside dwellings of Tokamachi.</p><p>Himura talked about a simple yet elegant house he discovered a year ago when he worked with one of his clients. The place was fifteen minutes away from the rice traces.  </p><p>Kiyoomi’s breath hitched when he found his past lover. The one who suddenly disappeared, the one who left him hanging for years, the one he wanted to <em> hear </em> all the answers from. </p><p><em> Miya Atsumu </em> ...with his former captain, <em> Kita Shinsuke. </em></p><p>His hands automatically formed into balls of fists while witnessing such a sight. Atsumu slipped from a puddle and Kita was right <em> there </em>to catch him with open arms. Kiyoomi looked away. </p><p>He expected to burst into anger once he saw Atsumu again, lashing out at him, taking out all his pain and bitterness at once.</p><p>But what Kiyoomi felt was <em> longing </em>. </p><p>He took a quick glance on the house. Kiyoomi perused the structure and details of it. A thought struck him. He bit his lip, fingers ran through his curls until it flew back to his mouth. He moistened his lips as he gazed upwards, completely harrowed upon realizing that he was the one who designed <em> this </em>house. At that moment, Kiyoomi wanted to weep his heart out. </p><p>
  <em> Oh god. </em>
</p><p>“Oh god. Atsumu.” Kiyoomi puffed. His stomach churned from bewilderment. </p><p>Atsumu had their <em> dream </em> house built and he’s now living in it...alone. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The past felt like ages ago. And his lost <em> hunger </em> for something has resurrected inside him. His passionate <em> resolve </em> has ignited once again.</p><p>“Omi, I hope yer listening right now. I hope ya can still forgiv—”</p><p>“What do I do with all this resentment I have for you?” Atsumu froze upon hearing the voice that used to whisper with a dulcet tune on his ears. </p><p>“O-omi?” Atsumu didn't move an inch. If he turned to him, would he notice <em> it </em>?</p><p>“Atsumu.” Kiyoomi was sharp yet pacifying. “<em> Why </em>...did you leave me?”</p><p>For the first time, Kiyoomi was finally able to voice out his question. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu hastily stood up, his arm accidentally knocked the radio off the sill. Atsumu gulped. His lips trembled, tears welled, throat tightened as he held a deep breath. </p><p>“Omi. It’s...nice to <em> see </em>you again.”  Atsumu hushed himself. A smile emerged his face in defiance of the whirling emotions within. He stood upright, shoulders solidified while he turned to Kiyoomi’s direction—his attention all on him. </p><p>Just like the old times. </p><p>“Lemme just…” he bent over, acting to reach for the radio on the ground. Atsumu fumbled too forward but Kiyoomi took his hand and returned the radio back to him. </p><p>Atsumu laughed nervously. “Ha...my eyes are a lil weary today. Guess I spent too much time under the sun earlier. Thanks Omi-”</p><p>“Atsumu.” He cut him off. </p><p>“Oh the shades? It’s a little bright in here I have a huge ass window-”</p><p>“You can stop <em> pretending </em> now.” A tear escaped Kiyoomi’s eye. His lips parted then pursed, preventing any sobs from being heard. </p><p>Atsumu’s mouth left agape. “W-what are you saying…”</p><p>Kiyoomi pulled him in a tight embrace, returning all the warmth the sun had selflessly given him. </p><p>“Stop it, Atsumu. Stop pretending anymore. Please.” He gritted his teeth but shaky breaths seeped out of it. </p><p>Atsumu pushed him away and in a second, he was kneeling before Kiyoomi, head touching the carpet. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Omi…I’m sorry I h-hurt you. I’m sorry I left you like that…I’m…”</p><p>He joined Atsumu as he sunk on the ground. He cupped his old flame’s face and removed his glasses. Atsumu strived to find Kiyoomi’s face but he failed to look him straight in the eyes. </p><p>Kiyoomi thought he harboured enough hatred to make himself forget Atsumu. The hair he brushed off his face were the yellow curtains he used to tuck aside to allow the sun’s warmth in his abode. But this time, Kiyoomi noticed that the <em> brightest </em> sun-soaked orbs he has ever laid his eyes onto have now lost their <em> glow. </em> </p><p>“Why?” Atsumu desperately spoke the word out of his mouth. “Yer supposed to yell at me. Tell me how ya hate me for running away from our relationship. Why are ya holding me like this right now?” He quivered.</p><p>Kiyoomi didn’t respond. He only listened. </p><p>“Ya know, Omi? When ya gave me the blueprints, I felt so assured, so ready to spend my whole life with ya. But I still have to wait until I can finally set for ya.” He sobbed. “I was so sure I’d settle down with ya in the house ya designed yerself. That’s why I saved up everything I’ve earned to bring yer beautiful drawings to life. So when I ask ya to marry me, ya can’t say no.” Atsumu chuckled in between his cries. </p><p>“But shit happened ya know? Since I was young I thought it was only a minor blur in my eyes because Samu and I play too many video games. My life felt normal. I thought there was nothing to worry about besides going pro and joining the national team. But-” His eyes shut tight. “-my peripheral vision started to deteriorate. It was like darkness was slowly eating up my sight. And that’s when I thought I can’t handle the idea of not being able to play volleyball anymore...with you. It was your world, your home-”</p><p>“You <em> were </em> my home.” Kiyoomi finally talked. “Didn’t I tell you anywhere with you, as long as you’re there, is home? That’s why I asked you to hold my hand and not let go,” he uttered, his voice was frail, edges unfortified. </p><p>Kiyoomi curled his fists to stop the violent quake of his world. “Atsumu, you left me <em> homeless </em>...for years.” Tears dropped consecutively.  </p><p>Atsumu hiccuped. A billow of regrets made his cries grow louder. “I didn’t want to be a dead weight, Omi. I didn’t want anybody’s pity.”</p><p>“Fucking pity! Of all people, you know I don’t pity shit, Atsumu. You know that.” His voice raised. </p><p>Atsumu turned away. “Do ya even know what I’m feeling right now, Omi? Huh?” He harshly wiped his tears.</p><p>“I lost you, I lost volleyball, I lost me. Wanna know how it feels?! Fucking miserable!”</p><p>“You wouldn’t have lost me.” Kiyoomi’s head sagged. “Atsumu, did you love me?”</p><p>“Yes!-”</p><p>“Then why didn’t you trust me?” His voice cracked. </p><p>Atsumu was at loss for words. And in silence, Kiyoomi discovered something. </p><p>He should’ve wandered into the darkest, most secluded rooms in his home. So when he gets locked in any of them, he won’t miss the sun’s light even from the smallest fissures and farthest windows. </p><p>“But I want you to stop asking yourself if you were not enough. I had the same questions too, so I can’t stand seeing you drown in them.” Kiyoomi stood up. “I loved you, Atsumu. And I still consider you my home, though I’ve made home for myself now. I’ve forgiven you a long time ago. So you have nothing to worr-”</p><p>Atsumu hugged his leg. “Omi. I’m sorry! I’m sorry. Please...w-we can still start again, r-right? I-if ya want, you can live with me here. I want ya here. This house is <em> ours. </em>” His hold tightened, desperate to cling on the only flame that set his soul ablaze. </p><p>Kiyoomi sighed. His eyes avoided seeing the mess out of Atsumu. How ludicrous that all his negative feelings towards him popped out of existence like a bubble. </p><p>He removed Atsumu’s arms around his leg and lifted him up. Kiyoomi pressed his lips against his forehead. He bobbed his head. “Okay…” he said, breathlessly. </p><p>Atsumu gasped, a glint of hope appeared in his jaded eyes. </p><p>Kiyoomi entwined their fingers. “Will you still let go of my hands if I asked you to hold them once again?”</p><p>Atsumu quickly shook his head. “No! I won’t. Not again. Not anymore.” He secured his arms around Kiyoomi and enfolded him without any intention of letting go. </p><p>“I will hold ya for as long as it takes, Omi. Welcome home.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for taking the time to read K3! I always liked writing angst, so I hope you liked it as well. xoxo!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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